


And the stone the only witness

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Multi, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: Framed for fratricide, Sereda Aeducan is about to find out just how far Bhelen was willing to go to secure his victory. An ex princess makes an attractive prize.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Other(s)
Kudos: 5





	And the stone the only witness

I don't know where things went wrong. True I never really got along with my brothers, yet now one is dead and the other has framed me for the deed. What for? I don't want the throne. I've never wanted it and I thought I'd made that clear enough. I have my command, my warriors to follow me as I did what I'd been trained to do: keep Orzammar safe. Who's going to defend her now? Bhelen? He doesn't know a military strategy if it bit him in the ass. What good will it do him to change what he wants to in Orzammar if his city is overrun by the taint creeping up from the depths?

How long has he been courting the rest of the nobles for? How long has he been planning this? Months, years, longer than that I now suspect. Has anything he's ever said to me been other than a lie by a masterful player of the game. I hate this game. I've had to smile and pretend for far too long playing the dutiful princess and daughter. I don't think Gorim knows how much I envy him and his rank. I'd have been much happier to be born as a warrior caste.

The scrape of the door at the other end of the prison has me on my feet. Waiting has been the worst part of this. I've worn a path back and forth across the cell as I wait for anyone to come and bring me news. I was hoping for anyone else, not my currently least, and now only, brother and his lackeys.

I narrow my eyes as Bhelen steps into view, watching him as he approaches, a faint smile curving the edges of his mouth into a smirk. Several more follow him but I ignore them, they’re not important.

“Good evening. I'm sorry about the accommodations, however sometimes one has to make sacrifices.” His voice is dripping with insincerity, the nug humping little cretin. I'd wring his neck if there weren't bars between us.

“When's my trial?” I demand, cutting straight to the matter. I have the right to a trial, and even if he's planned this, I won't go down without having my own voice heard.

“What trial?” His grin doesn't falter and the dwarves who followed him in shift, amusement rippling round the watching circle. “Alas, father is distraught at the moment and we had to hold the trial without him. You were convicted and sentenced in your absence.”

That can't be true. That's not possible. Father can't be... No. He wouldn’t lie about that. Father is ill and Bhelen's taken control. He knows he’s won. I take a breath. Another as I stride to the bars, forearms striking at the solid metal with a thump.

“You bastard,” I snarl at him.

Bhelen laughs as he tosses something to one of the other dwarves. “Just remember she needs to look presentable tomorrow.”

“Bhelen?”

That was the key he just gave away.

“Bhelen!” I scream after him as he turns away, leaving me alone with them.

And not a single one amongst them is showing their face. Everyone masked. Bhelen doesn't look back, the scrape-thud of the main door loud in the sudden silence as I back away from the bars. They wouldn't dare touch me. They wouldn't.

“Don't.” I warn them, eyes flickering from one face to another.

“Why not?” one of them asks, tone mocking.

“You're all honourable dwarva.” At least I had thought they were. Fellow nobles, or warriors sworn to my house. I can’t be sure with the masks in place.

“We are, yes. You, however, are not” 

“I am Sereda of House Aeducan.” How dare they accuse me of not having any honour!

“Are you? And here I thought you have no house. No caste. No name. You're just Sereda.”

The stone at my back is cold as I realise they are right. A conviction of fratricide will strip me of everything. The stone's never been cold before. Always warm and welcoming, it speaks of possibilities and potentials, of the gold and gems it hides. Now all I sense is the vast endlessness of rock that will be the only witness here. The metal of the cell door doesn't make a sound, silent on well oiled hinges and in contrast their footsteps are loud as they enter. I shiver. I will not go down without a fight.

I know I left bruises, several of them reeling back, and there was at least one with something broken if the cursing and the scent of a healing potion is anything to go by. It was always going to be a futile effort though - six on one is not good odds. I gasp, trying to draw air in around the arm locked around my throat. I've no idea who it is, but they're kneeling behind me, body flush against mine. I don't have the leverage to twist out of his grasp when I've been forced to my knees with my arms held by another two on either side.

I'm expecting the hand that approaches to strike me, not stop, gentling into a stroke across my cheek. I hiss a wordless curse. Just hit me and be done with it, I want to say, I'm no stranger to pain. Of course he doesn't oblige, laughing at my continued cursing. They wouldn't be laughing if they faced me one on one. Cowards.

The hands move lower, tugging at my belt and I miss a breath. No. The grips on my limbs tighten as I struggle. No, no, no. Bhelen wouldn't go that far. Would he? I could understand them wanting to hurt me, but not…

I can feel the world starting to go hazy, the arm under my chin stopping me from breathing easily.

“You'll only make it worse if you struggle.” The voice next to my ear says, amusement clear as he waits for me to still before he loosens his grip enough for me to breathe.

There's a cold touch of steel against my skin and I freeze, hissing at the rip of clothing, and ignoring my own relief when the blade doesn’t slice into me as more of my skin is exposed. I've been stabbed before during training - why was this suddenly more terrifying? I shiver, unsure if it's the chilled air or just the thought of what they might do. Because he's right. They're going to do this and I can't stop them so why make it worse? 

“Good. You're learning.”

I have to bite down the insult I almost spat back, working on keeping my breathing even and not fighting them. I can survive this. I'm Sereda Aeducan and nothing they say can change that. I am a shield of Orzammar and I've faced worse than this.

Haven't I?

“Touch yourself. Make us see you want this.”

There’s laughter as I snap my head around to sneer at them for such a crude suggestion. I will do no such thing for their entertainment.

“Come now, we're being nice, show us you appreciate it.”

If whoever said that wasn't out of range I'd deck him, arrogant sod. One arm is released and I stubbornly refuse to move. It's hard enough not using my sudden freedom to put a dent in the face of whoever is behind me.

“Well, if you're sure, the other option is that we'll take you now and be done with it.”

There's a dark glee in that, a warning I miss as I glare back, forgetting there are more of them, my focus settling on the speaker in front of me. I can't help the not quite a scream as what feels like several fingers are forced into me with no warning, nothing to ease their way.

“Wait.” It's barely a squeak as my breath catches, my spine arching at the intrusion. “Wait!”

The fingers still as I gasp.

“I'll do it.”

They are obligingly removed and I force my back to relax, letting my eyes close. I can try to pretend I'm in my own rooms. Alone. I let my fingers drift down my body, gentle, soothing away the burning pain. It would be easier if they’d all shut up.

“Awww, blushing are you.”

I scowl. I need to ignore them, it's just me, no one watching and jeering...

I can't forget. There's a warm body behind me, I can feel him shaking with laughter, and I can't block it out.

I can't do this.

I have to.

It's not hard to tell my body what I want. It's not the first time I've found relief at my own hand.

“Good girl.”

A hand covers mine and I jerk in surprise, eyes flickering open.

“You're getting as wet as any dust town whore.”

I grit my teeth together to stop a response slipping out as he pushes my hand aside, it’s quickly reclaimed and held by somebody. His other hand is in his breeches and I close my eyes again. The hands on my thighs are gentle. Too gentle. Skin brushes against skin as he settles himself, warm against the chill of the floor. My breath hitches as he sinks into me, a groan echoing round the cell.

“Good aye?” One of the circle asks.

“Very.” He murmurs, his hands curling round my thighs as he rocks himself, shallow thrusts, so considerate, given that I’m clearly not going anywhere and they could just do what they want. Almost like… No. Exactly like a lover.

I choke back a sob.

I swear I will survive. Survive and return somehow and find them all.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters, breath hot against my neck as he leans down, deepening his thrusts until I can feel myself shifting to meet him. I want this. Want the pleasure. The tight curl of anticipation building in me that I can’t stop. And don’t want to stop.

Just...

Not here, not them. Never them.

Faceless cowards.

He cums with a pleased moan. I can feel his cum slick on my thighs and I've never wanted a bath more than I do now.

The second is as violent as the first was gentle. It makes it easier to bear, to turn my head away.

To wonder where things went so wrong. I was never on the best terms with Bhelen. But I could never have expected he'd use me as a bargaining chip.

"Ah, ah, stop drifting away," he hisses, hands groping at my breasts, fingers twisting hard enough when he finds a sensitive nipple that I arch my back, a rough cry dragged from my throat.

He laughs, a cruel sound and drops his hand to my clit, roughly twisting until he finds something that makes my hips jump despite me trying to keep still. I won't cum. I refuse. Yet he doesn't relent, and the jeering continues, so many words thrown at me I can't separate them all, Whore. Cunt. Bitch. All the same, all mocking. I can't stop myself - it was never going to be an option - and he waits until I stop shuddering under him to move again

He laughs as he pulls out, hand stroking his cock as he stands over me. "You should be thanking us for showing such attention to a casteless whore."

I will not dignify that with an answer. A hand settles in my hair, dragging my head up and I close my eyes, knowing what he intends to do. The feeling of cum splattering over my skin makes me shudder as they laugh.

I don't bother to open my eyes as another settles down, yanking my thighs wider and I moan as he rubs a rough hand over my clit. "You're starting to look like a proper casteless whore now, covered in our cum and moaning like that."

I can't find the energy to respond. Is he only the third? Is it any consolation that he doesn't last long; the fingers creating bruises on my hips leaving quickly?

Was it actually quickly?

"Got a choice for you."

My head is turned, fingers digging into my chin as the one holding my head speaks.

"Gonna take your mouth or your ass, but I'll let you choose." I glare up at the featureless mask. "You don't choose, we can do all of them at once."

That's no choice at all. "Mouth." I spit out, continuing to glare. He just laughs, hand tugging at his belt. "Roll over and open up then, good little whore that you are."

The hands holding me let go, I grit my teeth as they help me move, hands tugging on already bruised flesh. He wastes no time in grabbing my hair and I choke down the sob as his cock presses at my lips. No choice at all. I open my mouth.

There's another behind me too. Pleasure is starting to blend with pain until there's nothing left. I'm me and yet not. Detached. Like this isn't happening and I've somehow learnt to dream.

Except dreams in the humans books don't talk like this, rumbling filthy things into my ear as I try to gulp in enough air as they fuck me. No consideration - why should they? I'm nothing to them. But I will fucking survive and one day this nothing will return to them and show them what I can do when I'm not outnumbered.

I'd accuse them of practicing as they cum nearly the same time. I gag, coughing until my mouth is covered with a rough hand, "swallow bitch."

The taste is bitter on my tongue even after swallowing and I want to heave and gag. There's no time as another hauls me around, knees scraping over the stone floor and another cock presents itself.

"You know how to get a man off or are you just going to stare?"

"We can always give her a little more incentive to do a good job," somebody comments as a palm lands on one thigh, leaving just another patch of pain to join the rest.

"Her ass is still there," another points out.

I'm not willing to trust they won't do just that. It makes this another easy decision to make.

I can't tell if it's easier now, this mockery of love. The hands that wind into my hair, tugging gently, the softly spoken words that are so at odds with what is actually being said. Easier to drift through the motions, apart from reality until he too is done, cum sliding down my face to drip on the stone floor.

They leave, laughing and jeering as if what they've done is of no consequence.

It will be something they regret. One day.

I ignore the bundle of fabric they throw in beside me, too preoccupied with dragging myself up with judicious use of the wall and willing my shaking legs not to collapse as I glare at them as they leave.

The last one out locks the door and gives me a mocking bow, “Might want to clean yourself up _Princess_. Wouldn't want any other visitors to see you like this would you?”


End file.
